Black Widow. Jessie Keane
window. Left the larder door wide open, so if anyone got in there she’d know about it. Then she ushered Jeanette out of the kitchen and back into the hallway.
‘Have you ever used a gun?’ Annie asked Jeanette.
Jeanette shook her head, no. She was pale and sweating.
She’s cracking up, thought Annie. She’s taken nearly as much as she can take, and she’s gonna blow.
‘When that phone rings again, I’m going to answer it and you are going to watch our backs with this.’ Annie handed her the gun. It was easier to shoot someone than to knife them. Easier and much more effective, and hey! You could do it at a distance. Triple benefits, no less.
When Annie found herself thinking this way she wondered if she was becoming hysterical too.
‘No,’ said Jeanette numbly. ‘I can’t do it.’
‘Oh yes you can. Think of what they’ve just done here. Now hold it steady. That’s it. Never point it at me or at your foot or anything bloody mad like that, you got that? That’s a hair trigger, it’ll go off at the merest pressure. We’ve checked this end and the kitchen’s clear. So all we have to watch is the doors off this end of the hall, and the main door. If anyone opens that main door, or any of the other doors, don’t hesitate. Just shoot. Aim for the torso.’
The torso was the biggest and the safest target, that was what Max had always said.
Jeanette was gazing in dumb horror at the gun in one hand, the knife in the other.
Annie grabbed her arm and gave her a little shake.
‘Come on, Jeanette. You want to get out of this, I need your help. Okay?’
No answer.
Annie gave her another little shake. ‘Come on, Jeanette. We can do this. Okay?’
This time Jeanette took a gulp and nodded.
‘Good girl.’
The phone started ringing again and Jeanette dropped the gun. The shot was deafening in the enclosed hallway and a bullet thudded into the wall, throwing up a spray of plaster dust.
Nerves jangling, Annie snatched up the phone. ‘Hello?’
She looked at Jeanette, who was whimpering and wailing and bending to pick up the gun as if it was going to bite her. As Jeanette straightened, Annie mouthed, Shut up you fucking idiot at her. Jeanette fell silent.
‘You missed my call.’ It was the same voice, unmistakably Irish and low and menacing.
‘I didn’t mean to,’ said Annie, trying to place the accent. Definitely Southern, she thought.
‘If it ever happens again, the girl will pay.’
Annie swallowed hard. ‘It won’t happen again.’
‘She’s a pretty little girl.’
Annie was silent.
‘A pretty little dark-haired girl.’
Annie said nothing.
‘You haven’t asked the question yet,’ said the voice.
‘What question?’
‘You have to ask “What do you want?”’ he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice; he was enjoying himself here. ‘You asked it last time, not this. What’s changed?’
‘All right,’ said Annie. ‘What do you want?’
‘It’s too early to say.’
He was playing with her. This was a game.
‘Money? I can get it.’
Could she? She wasn’t sure how much Max kept here, but she knew it would be little more than small change. She’d never had to think about money: Max took care of all that. There was no safe here, no cashbox. She felt a shiver of apprehension crawl up her spine.
‘I have jewellery,’ she said hurriedly when he didn’t reply. ‘Expensive jewellery. You can have it.’
Now he was laughing, the bastard. Was he the one who had done that to Inez, to poor harmless Rufio?
‘Check your jewellery case, you’ll find I’ve already got it.’
Christ! Annie looked at Jeanette and nodded at the gun. Her eyes said, Keep watch. Like your life depended on it.
They’d been inside the finca, probably when she and Jeanette were up finding that horror in the smaller building. Annie watched Jeanette. The hand holding the gun was shaking and she had tucked the knife into her waistband. She was eyeing the outside door as if a troop of marauders were about to burst through it.
And maybe they were.
‘So I’m asking the question,’ said Annie. ‘What is it that you want?’
‘Maybe more than you can deliver,’ he said.
‘Anything’s possible. All you have to do is ask.’ Annie’s brain was spinning, but she took a deep breath and said it. He wouldn’t like it, but what could she do? ‘Listen, there’s no money here.’
‘Don’t kid around with me, sweetheart, I don’t like it.’
‘I’m not kidding. There’s no money here.’
‘For fuck’s sake!’ he roared. He sounded furious.
‘Wait!’ Annie started talking fast. She didn’t want that anger being directed at Layla. ‘Wait. Just because there’s none here doesn’t mean I can’t get any. I can. I can get anything, any amount you want, in London.’
‘Fuck it,’ he said savagely.
Annie flinched.
‘Are you bullshitting me?’ he demanded. ‘Because I warn you—’
‘No! I’m not feeding you bullshit. This is the truth, you hear me? You’ve been in here, in this finca, didn’t you check? I bet you did. There’s no safe here, nothing. But look. My husband owns clubs in London. He has property there, business there; that’s where the money is. Give me a chance and I’ll get it for you.’
Silence.
‘So tell me,’ said Annie. ‘Tell me what you want, I’ll get straight back there and I’ll get it for you. It’s not a problem.’
She really was going to vomit in a minute, talking to scum like this, trying to persuade him not to just lose it and hurt Layla, trying to persuade him that she could do it, she could come up with the goods.
Could she though?
He was silent again. She was sure he was just going to put the phone down again, leave her dangling in limbo for God alone knew how much longer.
‘Come on, talk to me!’ she pleaded desperately. ‘We can do a deal. You know we can do a deal.’
He was going to put the phone down. There was a silence again, an unnerving silence, and then he said: ‘You can get money there? Straight now, no bullshit? Because I warn you…’
‘It’s not bullshit.’
A silence again. A long, long silence, eating into her soul. Then: ‘Where will you stay there? Give me the address.’
Annie thought fast. Cursed inwardly. Gave him the address anyway.
‘And the phone number.’
She gave him that too.
‘Now tell me what you want. Tell me and I’ll get it sorted, okay?’ said Annie.
‘Later. I’ll call you again when you’re back in London.’
‘What?’